Evil Intent
by NewEnglandFan
Summary: Sheppard is violently targeted as part of an insidious plot based on Earth. His enemy is not who you might expect. (July 10, 2013 - added some important scientific text in Chapter 7, which clarifies some things once you read the entire story.) Pls read The SEQUEL Aftermath - Finding His Way Again. Please read both and review!
1. Chapter 1

**Evil Intent**

**Chapter One**

_**Friday, 0730 hours…**_

Lt. Daniels stood in the Gateroom, waiting to go home along with fellow Marines who had just completed a 12-month rotation. He gripped his military – issue duffel bag securely. No one had questioned its benign contents during the routine inspection required of all personnel who were going back to Earth. No one had given him, or what he was actually carrying, a second thought.

Several anxious individuals awaited the arrival of his precious cargo. They could do what they wanted with it; he was just their delivery boy. All he cared about was the money, a new identity, and the chance to disappear. Good riddance to the military life.

The lieutenant stepped through the event horizon and was gone. He'd never understand the true impact of what he had done.

_**Two days earlier…..**_

"Sheppard!"

Damn, he was so close. A few more steps and he would be in the mess hall; cheeseburgers, and a "chance" encounter with the new lab tech from astrobiology, awaited.

"McKay, unless the Wraith are attacking, or even worse, Woolsey has paperwork, you _never_ saw me," implored Sheppard, practically breaking out into a run.

"Sorry, no can do. Lorne's team brought back that Ancient thingy this morning from MM4-287, remember? Well, it seems to be intact, not broken – but not even Lorne's natural ATA gene can activate it and…"

"Since when do you call Ancient technology "thingies"? Sheppard snapped back over his shoulder, mess hall in sight.

"Since I'm starving and in a hurry, 'cause Wednesday is cheeseburger day and the supply runs out fast, you know…"

(Sheppard knew too well…..)

"Well, Woolsey saw the artifact and it has Ancient writing on it, that our so-called expert linguist Dr. Savitz is stumped by, so…"

Sheppard stopped short, spun around on his heel, and gave up. "So, everybody has agreed to intercept Colonel Sheppard," he griped, "before _**he**_ can get one of those rare cheeseburgers." (Or the even rarer red-haired, green-eyed, 5' 4" lab tech that liked golf and had been taking flying lessons back on Earth, muttered Sheppard to himself.)

McKay paused long enough to try and look suitably chastised, and then piped up "I can save you a burger if you want, they microwave pretty good later although the bun gets kinda soggy…"

"When and where do you want me, McKay? Let's just get this done with," said an exasperated Sheppard, recognizing defeat when he saw it. Sometimes it was just plain easier to get snared by the lab geeks than try to avoid them.

"Uh, now, lab #3 with Dr. Inouye," McKay replied, with so much enthusiasm it made Sheppard's head hurt. He didn't need that; if testing out this "thingy" was like the other times, he'd have a migraine before he knew it.

_**Thursday, 2200 hours…**_

Sheppard made his way in the general direction of his quarters. _Generally_, because he was so tired he was letting his feet guide him more than his mind. And speaking of that, he didn't think he had a brain cell left that _**hadn't**_ been tested over the past few days. Ronon, god bless him, had broken the arm and punctured the lung of a village elder's son on MM6-720 during a "ceremonial" display of warrior skills, part of a bonding ritual with the Zorn. With Teyla's help, Sheppard had been able to soothe damaged egos. Of more immediate concern, however, was an emergency video conference with Caldwell regarding recent attempts to hack into SGC and Area 51 computers. Some of the data targeted was related to Atlantis personnel and technology. The severity of the breach was as yet unknown; the hackers had covered their tracks well. McKay and Zelenka were heading an investigation at Atlantis's end, in coordination with SGC security on Earth.

And then, if that wasn't enough, Dr. Inouye had kept badgering him about the find from Lorne's mission. Sheppard had been able to make it glow a bit, but he didn't know what it was for and neither did the scientists. The mostly ruined building where it was found provided few clues. It was metal and roughly the size of a large watermelon, but with sharper edges, and not quite as heavy. It wasn't a solid object; instead, it resembled a thick block that had been carved like filigree, with angular lines and empty spaces. At each end was a smooth, solid metallic disc. The science staff thought it might be a component of something larger, rather than a single, unique device. Dr. Savitz was trying to translate the Ancient markings on it; maybe the answers lay there. Sheppard was in no hurry to find out, though; whatever the thing was, he didn't like touching it. It felt…disturbing, on his skin and inside his head. That wasn't normal, even when he considered all the Ancient tech he had come in contact with over the years. He was relieved when the lab staff had turned him loose.

As he finally neared his rooms, Sheppard was surprised to see a Marine waiting outside the door – well, he hardly saw him; why were the lights so dim? Was he gonna have to "think" them on again, too? And why did this soldier need him _**now**_? Sheppard wearily went to address him.

He barely registered the blinding flash as a small object was pointed at him…and John vanished. His attacker slipped the item into his pocket and stepped away several feet down the hall. He pulled a short metal rod from another pocket which he directed at the security cameras. Lt. Daniels then hurried off to pack.

_**Friday, 0915 hours…**_

"Sheppard!"

McKay had better things to do with his time than track that man down. Didn't Sheppard know the meeting should have started 15 minutes ago? Rodney then grimaced, realizing he had barked into his radio headset in the middle of the conference room, surrounded by Woolsey, Teyla, Ronon and Lorne.

"Thank you, Dr. McKay," Woolsey commented. "But let's give Colonel Sheppard another minute or two, shall we? From what I understand, the past few days have been rather…trying." (That was an understatement. The Zorn situation just wouldn't go away; Harvard hadn't prepared Richard for irate villagers bearing spears.)

"He did forego our scheduled session in the gym yesterday," Teyla said. "I believe he mentioned a headache, which must have been severe, as the Colonel does not usually yield to illness." She spoke sympathetically while throwing a hard glance at Rodney. She knew how much he had been pestering John about the scientist's latest acquisition.

They sat for a few more minutes. "Well, let's try _again_," said Woolsey, breaking the awkward silence as he tapped his earpiece. "Colonel Sheppard, please report to the conference room right away." His polite tone barely masked his aggravation. When there was no reply, he switched to a channel which broadcasted directly into John's quarters. "_Colonel Sheppard_, you are needed _immediately_ in the Gateroom." Again, no answer. A page to Sheppard over Atlantis's city-wide system also failed to elicit a response.

"Maybe he's cranked his iPod up really loud," offered Rodney, silently hoping that Sheppard wasn't unconscious somewhere on migraine painkillers. At the same time, he punched keys on his tablet. "Uh, guys, I'm not getting a hit on Sheppard's subcutaneous transmitter."

"He didn't go out in a Jumper, did he? asked Ronon.

"Apart from this morning's outgoing troops, no one's gone through the 'Gate since yesterday afternoon. If he went to the mainland for some reason, he would have logged out a Jumper, which he hasn't," Lorne replied, concern creeping into his voice.

The atmosphere in the conference room was becoming anxious. "Major, please dispatch a security team to Colonel Sheppard's quarters immediately," Woolsey instructed.

"Already on it," grunted Ronon, who was out the door in seconds. Lorne, Teyla and McKay sprinted to join him.

It didn't take long to determine that Sheppard was not in his rooms, or anywhere on the planet for that matter. Security cameras inside the City had tracked him during the previous evening, but…

"Someone's tampered with the video system," McKay announced when they gathered back at Woolsey's office. "Any images that would have been time-stamped between roughly 9:45 PM and 10:30 PM have been deleted. And that includes activity extending about 50 feet on either side of the door to Sheppard's quarters. What the hell's going on?! McKay was close to losing it.

No one could answer him.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

**Evil Intent**

**Chapter 2**

John awoke with a start, nagged by a _familiar_ feeling that he was probably in an _un_familiar place. The unpleasant bite of metal restraints on his wrists and ankles confirmed his suspicions – an unfamiliar and _dangerous_ place. (Those two words came together in sentences way too often for his liking.) A fuzzy head, dry throat and scratchy eyes told him he'd been drugged – again.

John did a quick survey of his surroundings: grey-painted cement-block walls and recessed lighting, no windows, and a very solid-looking metal door that must have been fitted with a high-tech lock; there was no doorknob or key hole. It was all designed to give the occupant the message "good luck getting out of here."

He lay, slightly upright, on a padded chair similar to the kind you could raise or lower in a doctor's office. A large, unlit light fixture on a flexible arm was positioned a few feet above his head. To the right of John's chair was a metal cart with a cloth that undoubtedly was covering something he wouldn't like. God, was he a prisoner of some evil dentist? Beyond the cart was an institutional-style metal desk with some papers, a phone, and a bedraggled-looking houseplant on it. Looking to his left he – wait, what? Unless the local garden club, AT & T, and General Electric (whose brand name he now noticed was affixed to the lamp) had gone intergalactic, then he had to be on Earth, right? This time, he apparently hadn't been grabbed by the Wraith or the Genii or whatever alien-of-the-week felt like kidnapping him. So…who had? The last thing he remembered was walking to his quarters and, and…what? Hold on - someone had been in the shadows, a man. But John didn't remember going through the 'Gate with anyone, and surely _somebody_ would have noticed if he'd been drugged and dragged through the Gate room. Had he been brought to Earth on a ship?

John really needed someone to come in and clear up his confusion, even if it did mean he'd find out what was on that tray…

Marcus Nash walked briskly down the corridor of the derelict and, as a result, very private former hospital his corporation conveniently owned. Four imposing, muscular and heavily-armed young men accompanied him. Their "guest" had awakened a short time earlier; it was time to get started in earnest. Things were moving along very well - so far. Sheppard had arrived in one piece, and Lt. Daniels had been disposed of, to Nash's extreme satisfaction. It had been so easy to wave money, play on his hatred of military service, and turn him traitorous. But once he had delivered Sheppard to them, the gullible young soldier was a dangerous loose end.

John looked up as the door, with a beep and a click, opened to reveal his captors. The beefy bodyguard types didn't surprise him, but the 60-something, rather handsome but balding man in the designer suit did.

"Hmm, I guess you're not here to take care of this loose filling, huh? Sheppard couldn't resist quipping.

"That's very good, Colonel! Nash shot back. "A positive attitude in the face of dire circumstances. You'll be needing that."

Sheppard ignored the sudden chill seeping into his gut. "OK, I'll just recite the standard dialogue from the movies," he countered, "to speed things up? Who are you, how did I get here, and what the hell do you want?"

Nash laughed in genuine amusement. If the situation had been different, Sheppard would have made a terrific addition to his corporate empire. It was too bad that much of this intriguing young man before him, who he would soon exploit in the most unconventional of ways, would cease to exist.

"My name is Marcus Nash, founder, President and CEO of Nash Industries."

"Quite the creative name for your company," Sheppard snarked.

Ignoring him, Nash continued. "I'll 'cut to the chase.' My corporation, like so many others, has discreet and extremely 'off the books' access to technology made possible through the Stargate program and research carried out at Area 51. It's quite a lucrative arrangement, for governments and private industries alike"

John didn't even consider opening his mouth and (futilely) 'playing dumb.' This was serious.

"You asked how we brought you here. This is how." Nash folded back part of the dreaded cloth on the cart to reveal…

"An iPod?" John couldn't control his surprise.

"iPod-_like_, and yes, a similar concept. You were dematerialized, incorporated into this device, and rematerialized a few hours ago in this facility. My apologies for drugging you, by the way."

"I'm a human iTunes download, then…?"

Nash suddenly leaned down towards Sheppard, a disconcerting intensity burning in his eyes. "My researchers have taken the immense data storage capability of alien technology and adapted it to allow for an extremely stable, and compact, transference of the entire human "database" - a person's consciousness _and_ physical body. We can't store a person indefinitely right now, but maybe we could someday. Think about it, John: Wraith culling beams, Ancient and Asgard transporters, they all maintain your "pattern" in a buffer as you move from point A to point B, but the technology is unwieldy. You've observed it yourself. At Nash, we've just done what everyone else has been doing – making our technology smaller and smaller, our processors faster and faster. My God, do you know how easy it was to bring you here? Cell phones come in all shapes and sizes. Music storage devices nowadays can be as small as a matchbox. You can slip a digital camera into your back pocket. Wondrous technology, Sheppard, immensely popular, prettily packaged, about as common as a toothbrush, and as easily ignored. That young lieutenant had no trouble at all getting you away from Atlantis."

"Back it up a minute, Nash. Who exactly brought me here?" John's flippancy vanished in an instant, replaced by a simmering anger. The man in the shadows had been a Marine. Someone in Sheppard's own command had betrayed him, kidnapped him.

"Lt. Matt Daniels. But don't worry; he's no longer a liability to Atlantis - or to me." Dead, then. But John couldn't dwell on that now; he had much bigger problems facing him.

Forcing some bravado back into his voice, Sheppard resumed coaxing as much information as possible out of the talkative Nash.

"So, Mr. Nash," drawled John, with a grin he hoped masked his mounting anxiety, "since this is all starting to sound like an Austin Powers movie plot to me, do you think we can jump to the point where you, the overconfident villain, tell me your nefarious plans so that when I escape later – and I will – I can defeat you? Because you sure as hell didn't bring me here all broken down into molecules just to show off. Where do I fit in?

"You won't escape, John." Nash said quietly. "And you can't imagine how you 'fit' in.

(Shades of twirling black moustaches! TBC...)


	3. Chapter 3

**Evil Intent**

**Chapter 3**

_**Back on Atlantis…**_

McKay rubbed the heel of his hand against his aching eyes. He stared again at the security footage, all indecipherable snowy static. Whoever had taken Sheppard was _good_. And he did believe John was alive. Scans had not found any organic traces indicating that he might have been…vaporized or something equally horrific. Some clues had been gleaned from video which had been recorded from beyond 50 feet on either side of Sheppard's door. No one had been loitering in the corridor. Of course, they hadn't expected to see anyone; a transporter was conveniently located within the zone where the cameras had been disabled. What they _had_ seen was a flash of light – beaming technology? – reflected off a hallway wall panel that had a metallic finish. But, since no unusual energy signatures had been detected entering or exiting the City, then where was Sheppard?

_**Somewhere on Earth…**_

"_So, Mr. Nash," drawled John, with a grin he hoped masked his mounting anxiety, "since this is all starting to sound like an Austin Powers movie plot to me, do you think we can jump to the point where you, the overconfident villain, tell me your nefarious plans so that when I escape later – and I will – I can defeat you? Because you sure as hell didn't bring me here all broken down into molecules just to show off. Where do I fit in?_

"_You won't escape, John." Nash said quietly. "And you can't imagine how you 'fit' in._

Well, Sheppard wasn't about to stick around and find out. Nash's men had released him from his chair and now they were all headed toward…what? Time to make his move. His captors had already made two critical mistakes, if they didn't want their prisoner to escape: 1) wherever they were taking him, he wasn't going there drugged; and 2) his wrists were handcuffed _in front_ of him.

He scanned the corridor, desperate for an edge – and saw something. Just up ahead was a wall-mounted, emergency shower, the kind found in hospitals and research labs and operated by a pull-cord, to be used in case of chemical exposure. The building he was in was abandoned, but the utilities had been turned on, including the _water_ (John had been allowed to use the toilet). Overhead were large banks of fluorescent lights; a few chairs and other furniture were pushed against the walls. At the end of a hall was a door marked "EXIT" which undoubtedly led, if not outdoors, then to some stairs and some distance between him and the bad guys.

One goon walked ahead of Sheppard; two were flanking him along with Nash; and the fourth bodyguard was taking up the rear. As they neared the shower, John elbowed Nash – the guards had made the mistake of allowing the older man to be closer to him than they were – and Nash fell heavily backwards into his men. John yanked the water-release for the shower, then grabbed a chair and threw it up as hard as his cuffed hands could manage at the lights. Sparks, metal framing and hot glass shards came shooting down. Sheppard took off running, strategically knocking over a filing cabinet in his wake as the other men struggled to regain their footing and bearings in the wet, darkened and debris-ridden hallway.

At the end of the hall he slammed into the exit door – thank god it was unlocked. Inside the stairwell his eye caught the floor level's designation - Sub-basement. Upstairs was the way to go. Handcuffs chafing at his wrists, John pulled himself up one flight of steps then another, trying to keep his balance without the benefit of unrestrained arms. He heard the clang of metal as his pursuers ran after him. The first and second stairwell doors he got to were locked, but the third opened freely. Yes! Now, if he could find some adequate cover, something to use as a weapon, he could –

"Uhnnh!" Sheppard cried out as a heavy weight slammed him against the wall. He grabbed the metal door frame as best he could and used that leverage to twist his body and deliver a solid kick that sent the guard to the ground. As a second man attacked, John smashed him in the head and down the stairs, his cuffed hands acting like a powerful club. He turned to run out onto the open floor – but he had misjudged the force of his kick on the first man. That guard reached out and caught John's ankles, bringing him down hard. John's hands scrabbled desperately at the carpet as he tried to pull himself away. But then his legs were pulled down over some stairs; his feet then no longer had anything to push against, and he was yanked even further away from the open door. He cracked his head on the edge of a stair. Dazed, he wasn't able to protect himself as Nash's thugs kicked and beat him into submission.

Sheppard was half-dragged, wet, bruised and bleeding, back down to the sub-basement. They soon stopped in front of a large double-door secured by locks which could be released only with fingerprint and retinal scans.

The door was nothing compared to what lay behind it. In the center of the cavernous room sat a large object, of Ancient design and roughly the size of one-car garage. John flinched, not just at the sight of it but what emanated from it – the same unsettling sensation, but much stronger, that had creeped him out back on Atlantis. It now seemed apparent that the device Lorne's team had discovered was indeed a component of something larger, and more sinister. John could see that the whatever-it-was had several niches in it that were about the size of Atlantis's artifact. Only some were filled.

It also had three other compartments, each disturbingly large enough to hold a person.

SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA

"Let's start again, John" said Nash smugly. Sheppard was bound to a metal chair that was bolted to the floor. Leather straps secured his ankles, wrists, and chest. Blood oozed from a gash above his right eye, and his clothes were torn and dirty.

"I've got time to hear more about your nefarious plans, if you want? I don't seem to be going anywhere at the moment." John looked Nash straight in the eye.

Nash grinned. He walked over to the Ancient object.

"I acquired this last year. I have contacts in the Stargate program who sometimes redirect items to me if they think I'd be interested. Items which conveniently stay out of official inventory logs."

"The machine's quite fascinating, actually, especially since it takes considerable…commitment…from the gene carriers to operate it."

Oh, this wasn't sounding good, thought Sheppard. And what did he mean by gene carri_**ers**_…who was supposed to fill the other two compartments? He already knew he had a reservation.

"Enough with the set up, Nash. What's the damn thing do!?" He hadn't meant to snap like that; Nash was really getting on his nerves.

"Basically, it's a prototype developed by Ancients who wanted to create non-traditional, and less lethal, weapons. Fully activated, it would have directed a neural energy pulse at the enemy – in space or on land – which would have stimulated anxiety, fear, and panic. You know as well as anyone, John, that an army can't function effectively if its confidence is shaken, if it's not a cohesive unit, physically and emotionally."

"The device was never used, as far as we can tell, though. The Ancients were concerned that the technology could be abused, turned into something that could go beyond _influencing_ behavior to actually _controlling_ it."

"But you have no such qualms," said Sheppard, going out on a limb, "so you and the U.S. military are picking up where the Ancients left off?"

"On the contrary, John. I have no interest in letting our, or anyone else's military, know that this technology exists."

Huh?

Nash took in John's puzzled look with amusement and continued. "We've figured out how to concentrate that manipulative neural energy, program it, and download it into virtually any hand-held electronic device."

"I'm a businessman, John" Nash said. "The people I want to influence are competitors, bankers, lawyers, politicians. Think about it! I want a bill passed – or not – by Washington. All it costs me is a few hundred music players emitting a subliminal message. Why pay lobbyists when I can just hand out ear buds? I want to discredit a competitor's innovation. A few tablets later, and their anxiety-ridden R & D staff have blown up a lab, killed patients in a drug trial, or neglected to file a patent. A CEO's phone is making him feel suicidal; the next thing you know, he jumps out a window, the company's stock plummets, and Nash Industries scoops it up for pennies on the dollar."

"And it all meshes perfectly with our dematerialization technology. Embarrass a rival by putting him in a room with a call girl and a photographer. Disgrace a liberal politician when they're found in bed with a child. Destroy the competition by crushing the innocuous device that's imprisoning him with your shoe."

Nash was red-faced and sweating. Sheppard was certain that he himself had gone quite pale.

With so much to digest, he couldn't form much of a response. The best he could do at the moment ask, "Who are the other two "lucky" gene carriers that get to help me operate your wonderful machine?"

"Let me introduce you," said Nash, tossing a Nintendo onto Sheppard's lap.

_**(I hope the tech talk sounds plausible! This is, after all, science fiction. TBC.)**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Evil Intent**

**Chapter 4**

As Nash prepared to extract the other gene carriers from their electronic prison, Sheppard started to panic. His situation had become incredibly surreal, and the reality of how much trouble he was in was hitting him hard. He had been kidnapped from his home in another galaxy by, of all people, a crazed businessman. He was being held against his will because he was descended from aliens who had visited Earth thousands of years ago and who had passed on to him a very rare, would-it-ever-stop-getting-John-into-trouble genetic structure. He was going to be coerced into using said genetic ability in an insidious experiment in mind control that could ruin or even kill people. He was being made part of a machine.

How the hell was he – and those two innocent people – going to get out of this? He couldn't afford to wait for Atlantis to send in the cavalry. He struggled to maintain his composure even as his heart began to pound and his fists began to clench.

Sheppard watched apprehensively as Nash made keystrokes on the ersatz Nintendo. With a brilliant flash of light, a man and a woman rematerialized before them. Almost immediately, they started to faint; two people who looked like doctors caught them and laid them on cots that had been set up earlier. From what John could see, the two were a man in his 40s and a woman in her 30s. To his surprise, they looked like people who were very poor, or perhaps homeless.

Nash directed his attention to him again. "I kidnapped you, John, because you have the strongest ATA gene, second to General O'Neill, in the Stargate program. But I took a tremendous risk in doing so, because people are desperately trying to find you as we speak."

"Ideally, the people I want because of their gene have to be people who won't be missed. I have a network of medical professionals who have been collecting and testing blood samples all over the country, even internationally, from the homeless, the down-and-out who sell their blood, the indigent who visit free clinics. We've identified a fair number of carriers and have kept tabs on them. In the past few months we started to…(he tapped the fake Nintendo)…uh, build up our inventory. Those two over there will be your…co-workers (he smiled at his own sick joke). If they die 'on the job,' I have many others in reserve."

"You're one sick bastard, Nash," said John. His tone was low and ice cold.

"Yes, I am," Nash agreed. His features were like stone. He turned towards the physicians. "Strip them and prep them for integration. It's time." Nash then removed from his jacket a slim case containing a syringe. Before John could say a word it had been plunged into his neck. "Why don't you go first, Sheppard?" was the last thing he heard before he passed out.

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

**Evil Intent**

**Chapter 5**

_**Several hours later…**_

Sheppard sat extremely upright in something akin to a large wheelchair. He had no idea how long he had been out. Once again, painful restraints held his wrists and ankles. His head was immobilized by some sort of metal apparatus, and he could feel straps buckled tightly across his chest and upper legs. On either side of him were the man and woman. He could hear the woman whimpering, most likely crying. Muffled grunts of frustration came from where the man was as he struggled in his own chair. They must be absolutely terrified, thought John, and he despised the fact that he was completely powerless to help them or, for that matter, himself. He didn't know who his fellow prisoners were; they had never been able to speak to each other. While they were unconscious they had been gagged with leather appliances like those used in psychiatric wards. They had also been relieved of their clothing, which had been replaced by white, scrub-like pants and tops and some close-fitting slippers. John also felt the unpleasant presence of a catheter. Tape pulled at the skin of his right hand and upper arm; he must be connected to multiple IV lines. He heard some soft beeping nearby and guessed that a heart monitor was attached to the chair.

He heard a door opening, and then the sound of footsteps. Nash suddenly appeared in his line of vision, looking frighteningly confident. Sheppard couldn't help breaking out into a cold sweat. The increased beeping of the heart monitor belied his attempt to appear calm as Nash fixed him with a painful stare.

"Now that you're awake…," Nash began. "John, you know why you're here, but the others don't, so let me provide a little background."

"Nancy, Kevin, John: In a nutshell, the three of you possess an amazing genetic trait that I cannot wait to exploit. In just a few minutes, your minds and bodies will be integrated into the machine next to you. I imagine you're quite terrified right now, but rest assured that soon much of that fear will be gone. Come to think of it, much of what makes you, you, will also slowly be taken away."

"How much do you know about human anatomy, specifically, the human brain? Nash continued, rapidly changing the topic. "I myself am fascinated by the limbic system. Now, in case you don't remember what you learned in high school biology class, the limbic system includes, among other structures, the amygdala, hippocampus, and hypothalamus. These are very important, because they help regulate emotional responses such as fear, anxiety, panic and depression. With your help, my device will create a powerful force that I can use to stimulate those parts of the brain. Applying it against individuals or groups that I need to…influence – or make go away – will help me achieve certain goals. It will be the perfect weapon, invisible, that my enemies will never detect and against which they'll have no defense."

"Nancy, Kevin: You should understand that it takes more than the presence of your genes to operate the machine. You must _actively_, _willingly_, "think" it to work. And if you don't, I'll kill you, plain and simple, and find someone else to suffer in your place."

"Sheppard, I have no doubt you'd be willing to die rather than cooperate. You have the strongest gene and are the person I need the most. But at the slightest hint of resistance from you, one of them will die. And you know I have plenty of replacements on hand."

With that verbal flourish, Nash's maniacal speech came to an end. He then motioned to the burly bodyguards that John was so fond of. Two approached his chair; they lifted it with ease and carried him to one of the three large compartments. Given his inability to turn his head, Sheppard could not quite see where they would be "integrating" him. He was turned to face outwards in the large room; he could see Nash staring at him, practically bursting with anticipation. With some jostling and with several loud snaps, his chair was secured. I'm some kind of freakish Lego toy, John thought, a hysterical giggle threatening to push its way past the gag. Now what? He had his answer almost immediately. One of the physicians wheeled over a cart bearing yet another covered tray. This time John knew it wouldn't contain a fake iPod.

It certainly did not.

Sheppard's chest heaved in panic as he strained against the tight straps. He watched as the doctor donned gloves and carefully removed two small, silver-colored metal objects from a glass jar filled with a clear liquid. They were circular, completely solid, and were about 1/4 inch thick and about 2 inches across. One side was smooth; on the reverse, three tiny barbs aligned like a triangle rose ominously from the surface. John flinched as the doctor approached. What had happened to that medical school oath, "to do no harm," huh?

John's head and neck were supported by a curved metal headrest which fit firmly against his skull. On both sides of his head, just above the ears, a ring – the size of the silvery discs – was affixed to the edge of the curved metal. The doctor snapped each circle into a ring and pushed the barbed surfaces hard into the skin at John's temples. He then stepped back, engaged a switch on the chair, and observed as Sheppard began to violently convulse.

A gasp choked in John's throat as he was hit with an excruciating sensation of cold throughout his entire body. Icy needles of pain stabbed through his head and cascaded down his spine. He feared he would bite through the leather gag and tear into his tongue. But then, within moments, the agony mercifully began to fade, leaving him drained and shaking and terrified. He became aware of Nash near him, Nash speaking to him. "…..sync your neural pathways…..shock of integration, but it abates quickly. Sheppard? Uh, Sheppard, are you with us?"

Sheppard unscrewed his eyes and looked blurrily at Nash. He could hear Nancy and Kevin's panicked wheezing as they realized they were next. _Whatever it took_, he would kill this man and get them all home. But he also realized that, as much as he believed in himself, he could soon lose the physical or mental ability to escape. It might turn out that only Atlantis and his friends would be able to save him.

_**One day later…**_

Nash was a happy man. Things were proceeding fairly well and on schedule. He looked across the room and marveled at what he had accomplished.

Nancy and Kevin had been successfully integrated. Nash had feared they might not, seeing how hard it had been on Sheppard – who was physically and emotionally stronger than they were. There _had_ been a glitch, though. Nancy and Kevin had been so frightened that, despite mild sedation and threats, they could not adequately focus. Nash had solved the problem by initiating a failsafe the Ancients had built into the prototype. It was well known that a gene carrier's state of mind could interfere with the smooth operation of an Ancient device. Like some Ancient technology, Nash's machine was able to exert subtle control over those two and keep them on task, whether they wanted to or not.

Sheppard was cooperating – he had no other choice. But Nash would not take his acquiescence for granted, however. To do so could be fatal. He had decided, for the time being, to keep John mildly sedated, leaving him malleable to Nash's influence and blunting his desire to resist.

The three subjects would now remain ensconced in their compartments for the next week or so, extracted for two days for recuperation, then put back into service. All of their bodily requirements would be seen to, of course, and their overall health would be carefully monitored by his staff.

The energy output thus far had been very good. Of the 7 storage nodules he had online, three were at capacity. Nash remained frustrated at his failure to obtain more nodules; his machine could accommodate ten. He knew that one had been found 6 months ago but was having difficulty acquiring it. The mission to re-visit the ruins on MM4-287 that he had managed to get assigned to an Atlantis team had been successful – a nodule had been found several days ago.

And most importantly, his two inaugural targets were now in possession of their particular electronic devices, oblivious to their true purpose.

_**Three days later…**_

The Vice President of Research and Development for a large defense contractor, at their annual stockholders meeting, burst into tears, climbed up on a table, declared he was becoming a pacifist and resigned on the spot. A massive stock sell-off followed.

And a prominent union leader, for reasons unknown, drove his car off a bridge as he was taking his kids to school.

_**TBC…**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_**A lab in Atlantis…**_

_**Sheppard has now been missing for nearly five days…**_

Dr. Radek Zelenka looked up from his laptop in great surprise. If what he had uncovered was accurate, it could be a tremendous break in their efforts to find Colonel Sheppard. It had to be.

He and several colleagues had been working for hours on end investigating the computer hacking incidences that Caldwell had wanted them to look into. They had been making frustratingly slow progress in figuring out what had happened. The incursions had started several months, perhaps even up to a year, ago, although they had only been recently detected. Various types of files had been targeted, but Radek's innate curiosity had been drawn to the logs of Ancient and Wraith technology acquisitions. It seemed logical to him that a chance to get their hands on alien devices would be a primary reason why anyone would risk trying to infiltrate the SGC top-secret database.

He had been perusing the large files, which contained both written and photographic information on scores of objects, hoping that something might jump out at him. And it just had. On a hunch, Zelenka re-visited the Atlantis personnel records that had also been breached.

"Rodney, please to come and look at this!" he called urgently over to McKay, who was hunched over his own computer, surrounded by empty coffee cups and looking extremely sleep-deprived. He had not been working on the hacking case; finding Sheppard was all that mattered to him right now.

"What _is it_, Radek? If you haven't noticed, I really don't have time for…"

"It is somehow connected to the Colonel's abduction, I am quite certain." Radek wanted their friend found as much as anyone.

"What?!" McKay hurried over to Zelenka's workstation. He was startled by the familiar image on the laptop's screen – a photograph of the mystery object from MM4-287, Lorne's last mission.

"What on Earth has that got to do with Sheppard?" he declared angrily.

"This file shows tampering by the hackers."

"So?" Rodney snapped. Why was Radek wasting his time?

"Look at the _date_, Rodney, when the object was found."

More than six months ago. "It's not the one _we_ have," McKay said, his voice trailing off.

"No, it is not."

McKay's bluster returned. "But how's it related to Sheppard? And, and…," he stuttered, something suddenly occurring to him, "Why don't we know about this? I mean, shouldn't Inouye and Savitz have found it in the system? It should have registered a hit in our records right away."

Radek elaborated, "The object, it seems to be listed in a special log, a file I found by accident and had a very hard time accessing. It does not appear to be part of inventory data I am familiar with. And I don't know where the object came from – the entry doesn't reference a mission or person. It does list the date found, as you saw, and there is also what looks like a coded identifier – a short sequence of letters and numbers, but I do not recognize it as part of a system used in SGC record keeping. Rodney, there are many other Ancient and Wraith artifacts in this log. Maybe there is a good reason, but I think it is very odd that their existence is isolated in this way."

"As for Colonel Sheppard, someone has looked at his personnel file, many times. The mission logs he has filed, dates when he has travelled on or off Atlantis. It is all very curious," Radek said with concern.

"Can you figure out what the log is for? There has to be a reason it exists, and why it's apparently so important it had to be buried in the database. Do we know if John's connected to it?"

"I have no idea," Zelenka answered, noticing how Rodney had used the Colonel's _first_ name. "I have only just discov…"

"Well, hurry up and find out!" McKay interrupted. He then turned away and tapped his headset. "Richard, it's about Sheppard, I think we've found something!" For the first time in days, Rodney saw a glimmer of hope.

_**Richard Woolsey's office, 20 minutes after Radek's important discovery…**_

"Dr. McKay, Dr. Zelenka, please come in. What's this urgent development? And, for goodness sakes, please sit down before you fall down, you look absolutely exhausted." The disheveled condition of two of his best scientists concerned Richard greatly.

They entered, Rodney's anxious state in sharp contrast with the dignified, professional atmosphere of Woolsey's well-appointed office. McKay started talking, rapidly, before even taking a seat. "We – uh, actually, Radek here – he's just found something really weird. Maybe it's a stretch, but I think it's connected to Sheppard's disappearance." Zelenka, rather surprised that Rodney was deferring to him, quickly directed their attention to his laptop.

"First of all," he began, "I have learned that whoever the hackers are – remember, we are investigating them on SGC's orders – they have breached Colonel Sheppard's personnel files many times in the past several months. Please, let me return to that in a moment," he added, as Woolsey was opening his mouth to comment.

"You remember the Ancient find the other day, from Major Lorne's mission to MM4 – 287?" Actually, Woolsey barely did; his attention had been pulled in so many stressful directions recently. He nodded anyways as Radek continued, "What is the expression, 'long story, short.' Well, we logged it as a new find, as that is what we thought. But apparently not so."

"Well, I guess that's…interesting?" Woolsey was puzzled as to exactly where Zelenka was going with all of this.

"What is interesting," Zelenka continued, "is that in one of the files targeted by the computer hackers, is a record of an artifact similar to the one we have. It is part of a…"

McKay interrupted, his customary impatience getting the better of him. "We found the entry in a file, buried deep in the SGC database, that lists all kinds of Ancient and Wraith technology that doesn't seem to be part of any official records. The object was found months ago, but we have no idea who found it, where it came from; the only thing we have to go on is that it was assigned some sort of specially coded, unique ID."

Woolsey sat up slightly straighter at the mention of the coded identifier.

Radek spoke up again, taking advantage of McKay needing to take a breath. "The file is very large, so I came up with an idea. I decided to filter the log entries to only display items which used the same designated ID, thinking maybe it was a way to link objects that were connected to each other in some way. Like categorizing inventory by type of product, you know, how they keep track of stock in a factory or warehouse? And, we found this." He hit a key, and the screen changed to display…what was, even though they didn't know it yet, the Ancient machine kept in Nash's facility. "We do not know what this is either, but if you look closely," Radek hit the "zoom in" feature, "you can see it has slots of some kind, some empty, some occupied. We think the artifact we have, and the one found about 6 months ago, are both part of this larger object."

"And I don't know why," Rodney jumped in, "but I swear it's not just a coincidence that Sheppard is kidnapped right around the time that we conveniently find an artifact _just like_ one that's being kept on a secret list. Sheppard's personnel file and this mysterious list both being hacked isn't coincidental, either." McKay's tone was becoming strident.

Richard Woolsey coughed uncomfortably as he surprised the two of them by saying, "Um, I, ah, may know something about what's going on. I'm not sure how Colonel Sheppard's abduction fits into this, but I may be able to clarify the situation somewhat. Please instruct Teyla, Ronon and Major Lorne to meet us right away in the conference room."

A short time later, they were all around the conference table. McKay had briefed Teyla, Ronon and Lorne on what he and Radek had learned, and they were eager to hear what Woolsey had to add. They all looked expectantly at him.

"As you know," Woolsey began, "Stargate Command and the IOA maintain certain…special relationships with private industry, as a way to maximize the potential of what we learn through Stargate explorations."

"Maximize, as in make money," McKay said scornfully.

"I don't think it's an unreasonable arrangement, even though some of the specific dealings may be questionable. But please, what I'm saying doesn't mean I've forgotten the unfortunate experience you and your sister, Dr. Miller, had with Devlin Medical Technologies."

Rodney certainly didn't.

Woolsey took a breath and continued. "SGC reviews acquisitions on a regular basis. If it determines an item may be of interest to one of our…partners, the item is transferred to the special log that Dr. Zelenka found, and its record is deleted from the overall inventory listings. Each company or individual that SGC deals with has been assigned, to preserve confidentiality and to maintain security, a unique ID. That ID is also used to label the artifacts we have set aside for them to consider."

"How is it we don't know about this?" Rodney asked indignantly. "The mission teams, the scientists, we're the ones that find everything and do a lot of the work."

"I can appreciate that, Dr. McKay, but SGC and the IOA make the rules, not I. Given my role on Atlantis, I of course know about this system, but I've not been at liberty to share the information with any of you."

Woolsey then brought out his own laptop. "Dr. Zelenka, can you please tell me the ID number you found in the records." He then inserted a flash drive into the port and spent a few moments pulling up files. "According to my information, this cipher is assigned to a company called EcoEnergy. Um, please bear with me." He spent a minute or two deeply absorbed in whatever he was reading. "OK. Twelve months ago, this company took delivery of that large piece of equipment. This item was found during a Milky Way mission. The artifact was large but SGC was able to disassemble it and transport it back to Earth. It says here that several of those smaller objects with the odd Ancient language were found contained in it." He scrolled down. "The planet where everything was located has been revisited frequently by science teams, since it apparently has extensive ruins to be explored. A little over six months ago, another one of those small objects was located during a follow-up mission."

"Does your information say why EcoEnergy wanted these things, what they're doing with them?" McKay asked.

"It says that they specialize in "green" technology, especially the development of alternative energy resources. I imagine they think this combination of artifacts has something to do with that."

Lorne then asked a question; something had been playing on his mind, and Woolsey's revelations seemed to tie into it. "My mission to MM4-287, how did that get assigned? With all of this talk I'm thinking, like Dr. McKay's said, it wasn't a coincidence that we went there."

"Let me call up the mission history of that planet," Zelenka said, quickly typing away. "Uh, that is odd. MM4-287 was visited 8 months ago by Major Cappelli's team, apparently just an ordinary mission. So why did we go back…?" he muttered to himself. Several agonizing minutes passed. "Hmm, the request to return came directly from SGC. Ah! Rodney, this small object from MM4-287 we have, you said it had unusual Ancient markings on it?" McKay slowly nodded. "Well, according to Major Cappelli's report, a wall fragment was found inscribed with some unusual text. Look at this photo from the report, Rodney," Radek said, pivoting the laptop around so Rodney could see it. "Are the markings similar to the ones Dr. Savitz is currently studying?"

"Yes!" Rodney exclaimed. "So," he mused, light slowly dawning, "OK, _**pay attention**_ as I try to sort this out: a picture of the unusual markings on the wall fragment gets entered into the mission report. SGC reads it. They cross-reference the report with the criteria they have on file for EcoEnergy. The artifacts that the company has, they must have the same markings on them – I mean, we know the two little ones do that we've seen, the ones that apparently also fit into the big object. EcoEnergy thinks, hey, maybe Major Cappelli's team missed something, maybe there's some more stuff on that planet that our company would be interested in. So they use their influence to get our people to go back. And bingo, we find _another_ small one."

McKay then added, "I also think this company is behind the computer hacking. Now, why they would hack into that special log, when SGC keeps them in the loop on items they might want, is beyond me. Maybe they got impatient about what SGC had on tap; maybe they wanted to know about items meant for other companies. And I'm still not sure why they would want access to Sheppard's files."

"My head's starting to hurt," groused Ronon.

Teyla then spoke, looking deeply concerned over what she had been hearing. "Dr. McKay, Mr. Woolsey, this all sounds very intriguing. But how is it connected to Colonel Sheppard? I do believe it involves him in some way, but I find it extremely complicated. Do the records show that _he_ has ever encountered the technology that interests this company?"

"I don't think so. When he was asked to try and activate it the other day in Dr. Inouye's lab, he seemed as puzzled by it as she was," answered McKay.

And then, suddenly becoming very pale, he turned urgently to Dr. Zelenka. "Radek, that large object, the photo, can you enlarge it some more? As big as you can. And turn on that '360 degree virtual tour' function. Jesus, this better not be what I think it is."

Radek, alarmed at his colleague's reaction, immediately re-opened the file.

McKay tore the laptop from his hands. "Oh, no. Lorne, you couldn't activate the object, right?" Lorne shook his head, 'no.' "But Sheppard could, because he has the strongest gene in the City, stronger than everybody else's in the Stargate program except General O'Neill. This explains why they were going after his files. They needed to keep track of where he was…"

"Dr. McKay, what are you getting….," started Woolsey.

"Look, look," Rodney said, manipulating the image. "I thought I saw this before. At one end of the artifact – those large, empty spaces, like alcoves."

"Yes?!" Woolsey was getting anxious.

"They're big enough to _**hold a person.**_ Richard, I think EcoEnergy took Sheppard because they think he can operate whatever this thing is."

"Dr. McKay, you're…"

"Really reaching, yeah, I know. But _what else_ do we have to go on? We have to check this out; I have a bad feeling…"

Woolsey took a look around the room. His colleagues were in agreement. He consulted his confidential file again. "Oh my. Their corporate headquarters is located in Colorado – 50 miles from Cheyenne Mountain."

He turned to Major Lorne. "Major, I want you to coordinate a strike force immediately. I agree with Dr. McKay – this company is somehow involved."

SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA SGA

Within hours, Sheppard's team, along with Major Lorne and eight Marines, were breaking down the main entrance to EcoEnergy, while a second unit covered the other exits. Several very startled executives were dragged out of their offices, plunked down in a conference room, and confronted by Major Lorne and a seething Ronon.

"I'll just get straight to the point, gentlemen," announced Lorne. "Where is Colonel John Sheppard? We know that he is either being held here, or…" and he leaned in uncomfortably close to one of the extremely unhappy businessmen, "that you know where he is." At Sheppard's name, two of the men flinched. Lorne immediately turned his attention to them. "Do you have something to tell us? It's really in your best interest to cooperate."

One of the men replied, "We know it is. But he'll kill us if we do."

"And I will gladly kill you if you don't!" Ronon threatened, brandishing his particle gun. What little self-control he had was rapidly disappearing.

"Ronon…," warned Lorne. He then asked the executives, "Who is 'he'? Please note that I am authorized to offer you certain protections if you help us." Silence. Lorne moved in even closer. "Best deal you're gonna get today, guys. Or I can leave you to whoever you're so afraid of…"

"Marcus Nash, president and CEO of Nash Industries. We're a subsidiary of his corporation," practically squeaked one of the men. "We often act as a go-between for him, for certain…transactions."

"Colonel Sheppard being one of these 'transactions'?" Ronon growled. "Where is he!"

"Nash owns an abandoned hospital, the property is about 20 miles from here. That's where your man is." He gave them an address. "But you have to know, he has very good security and they're very well armed."

"So are we," said Lorne.

_**TBC…..**_

_(Disclaimer: Nash Industries, Inc., and EcoEnergy are figments of my imagination. Any resemblance to real businesses is coincidental and unintended.)_


	7. Chapter 7

Evil Intent

Chapter 7

John woke up in his chair. Something was different, what was it?...Ah, his clothes. They were new and clean, and he felt as if his skin and hair had been washed. Then he remembered. He had been imprisoned for…hours, days… who knew. The headache, constantly in the background of his suffering, had suddenly exploded. He had started to vomit, but it had nowhere to go. The doctors had grabbed at him, ripped off the leather gag before he could inhale and asphyxiate himself. Powerful painkillers and anti-emetics had been pumped into him. He was vaguely aware of having been removed from the device, bathed and clothed. And returned before he could awaken and somehow (what a joke) put up a fight.

He was doing what he had to, the only option available to him. He had turned his mind over to the workings of Nash's horror show, strolling down the path of least resistance. Even though Nash had threatened the lives of the others if he resisted, John _had tried_ to fight back, _had tried_ to reach out with his thoughts, find some subtle way to interfere with the machine, slow down its function. He had failed, though; either the device's failsafe mechanism would kick in or Nash would up his level of sedation. He sensed Nancy and Kevin's presence but they were too frightened, too sick or too drugged to acknowledge him. He was concerned about them; if he was so ill, were they worse? The doctors, the staff, the thugs, Nash himself: no one would acknowledge his attempts to communicate – unless, of course, he was about to choke on his own puke.

John felt it all slipping away – health, hope, giving a damn.

_Seventy miles outside of Colorado Springs…_

The old hospital was an unexpectedly small building; most likely it had once been a private institution. It was set back from the road a ways, which posed a problem. Lorne's team spotted several security cameras, and who knew what other kind of protective measures – motion sensors, for example – they might run into. This was one occasion when Lorne wished they could have taken a cloaked Jumper right through the SGC gate. Luck was on their side in one respect, though, or Nash was careless in his arrogance: the property had ample cover in the form of trees and outbuildings. Infrared scanning showed few people on the ground floor; most seemed to be on the lower level. That had to be where they were keeping Sheppard.

Their strategy was simple: they took out the cameras then moved in fast, realizing they would lose the element of surprise once the enemy saw their equipment go off-line. Soldiers ran up, placed C4 on the outer doors and triggered the charges. As expected, they encountered limited numbers on the ground level. They killed all but two, who they then asked to kindly direct them to Sheppard. Down in the sub-basement, Nash's security force was ready for them. The Atlantis team faced heavy opposition, but flash bang grenades and return fire eliminated almost all of it. When they reached the room imprisoning Sheppard, Ronon threatened to rip off body parts when one of the guards hesitated to use the retinal and fingerprint scanners and unlock the door. John's friends and fellow soldiers rushed in and…..

No one shot back. A well-dressed older man, who they assumed to be Nash, and two men in lab coats were the only ones there, and they looked fairly calm, too. They didn't seem to be surprised by the people who had just come crashing in on them, armed to the teeth. Behind them was a hulking piece of metal – the object from Zelenka's laptop. At one end, in stark contrast to the ominously dark color of the machine, were three seated people wearing white.

While the soldiers secured Nash and the doctors, Rodney, Teyla and Ronon ran frantically to Sheppard. They were stunned by their friend's appearance. John's eyes were glazed and bloodshot, his wrists and ankles were badly bruised, and they were horrified at the leather monstrosity which gagged him. He barely seemed to acknowledge them. They did not know what to make of the bizarre contraption which held his head or of the strange metal discs which were pressing blood-encrusted circles into his forehead. They went to release him from the gag and restraints, but were afraid to touch the apparatus on his head. "Somebody get the hell over here and take this off him!" yelled Ronon. At the same time, Teyla rushed towards the other two helpless people.

Lorne personally searched Nash for weapons. "You won't find anything, Major, on me or my colleagues. Why would I risk an exchange of gunfire with you and your men? I don't want to get hurt. And besides, the equipment in this room is much too valuable. That includes your friend Sheppard." Nash's smile was sickly sweet. It was all Lorne could do not to strangle him right then and there.

They called SGC to request a medical team and an emergency airlift. As they gently placed him on a stretcher, Sheppard, who had slowly come around, asked, "How are they, the others? Are they alive, are they OK?!"

Understanding that he meant the other unfortunate victims of Nash's experiment, Teyla softly answered, "They will be alright, John, I am certain."

But Sheppard had to see for himself. He struggled to sit up on the stretcher, needing a great deal of help to do this in his weakened state. When he finally could see the others, he startled Teyla by saying, "No, where's Kevin!?"

"He is there, John, see?"

"No, no," he exclaimed in distress, "that's not him, that's not him!" Oh, god. Kevin had not been African American. Caught up in his own suffering, Sheppard had not detected that he was gone and a new victim had been integrated into the machine. Kevin had died at Nash's hands, and had been replaced by some other poor soul – yet another person that Sheppard had been unable to save.

_Epilogue…_

Back at SGC, undergoing interrogation, Nash was surprisingly cooperative. He described the machine's workings and what he had done with the terrible force it had created, at the physical and mental expense of Sheppard and two, no, make that three, innocent people. The small, mysterious nodules which fit into the Ancient prototype were inspired by neurons in the human brain. Their filigreed design, when compared to pictures in neurology textbooks, roughly mimicked the appearance of these cells. The nodules also acted as giant batteries which stored the devastating mental power that Nash's prisoners had generated. The crippling energy flowed and cycled through the device in a way not unlike how electrical signals pass from neuron to neuron. Other components of the machine concentrated the force so it could be transferred into Nash's pseudo cell phones, iPods, and other technology.

Nash even volunteered, almost gleefully, how he had targeted the defense contractor executive and the union official. When SGC demanded that he tell them how to retrieve the electronic devices, he just smiled and withdrew two news clippings from his inside jacket pocket, one from the Wall Street Journal and one from the New York Times obituary section. They were sickened at what they described.

What Nash didn't share, however, was that three more ordinary pieces of technology, and consequently three more lives to be ruined or taken, were out there, somewhere in the world.

John remained in the infirmary at SGC for several days. At first he was very quiet, and his doctors were taken aback when he suddenly asked, "Can you take it away? Remove it?"

"Take what away, Colonel?"

"This curse of a gene." Too many people had died.

(Nash was in a holding cell, awaiting trial and sentencing. Colorado had the death penalty, so...)

Rodney stayed close to John as he recuperated, always there if he needed him, even if his friend might not admit that he did. The night before John was going to be discharged from the infirmary, Rodney came to his room and placed a small box on the nightstand. As the Colonel opened it, all McKay said was, "Go for it, it's ok." Bypassing the traditional authorities, Stargate Command itself had decided on Nash's punishment, and on who would inflict it.

A few days later, Sheppard walked up to Nash in his detention cell. There was a brilliant flash of light…

_Back home in Atlantis, on one of the piers…_

Sheppard was flirting away with the pretty, red-haired woman from Astrobiology, enjoying their long-awaited golf 'date.' He grabbed his club and teed up not a golf ball, but a tiny, tiny phone. With a strong and confident swing, John sent it cascading out into the sea.

The End.


End file.
